


Castles in the Air

by 1848pianist



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Castles, F/M, Fluff, Princes & Princesses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-06 19:07:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1848pianist/pseuds/1848pianist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prince is coming the castle. Christine is told to stay out of the way. You can guess the rest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starkswinterfelling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkswinterfelling/gifts).



> This is in no way meant to be a historically accurate AU because you can never have enough romanticized R/C fluff, really. Ignore the fact that they have French and Swedish names and speak in modern English, or pretend it takes place in an different timeline. Merry Christmas to everyone in this (apparently) very, very small ship.

“If I’m not even going to see the prince, why must I be dressed up?” eleven-year-old Christine pouted. She had been thrilled to hear that the prince of a kingdom far greater than hers would be visiting and less enthused when she was told to stay out of sight as much as possible. A child, she had been told, had no place in court, particularly if their family wasn’t important. And now she had to wear her most uncomfortable dress and have her hair so tightly pinned up that it pulled at her scalp.

“Well, what if the prince happened across you by accident?” one of the maids said irritably. “We can’t go making a bad impression, can we, not when the prince might choose to marry one of our ladies.”

“Might he choose to marry me?” Christine asked, already imagining it in her dreamy, optimistic way.

“Certainly not,” the maid replied. “But we had better hope he marries someone, for the sake of the royal treasury. Another maid laughed, rather nervously, from where she had been straightening Christine’s dress.

“Now, the prince is almost here,” she said, tying the last knots and ribbons of the dress’s many fastenings. “You know what is expected of you.”

“Yes,” Christine replied sullenly.

“Don’t frown so much, Christine. This may turn out a happy day for all of us.” Then the maids took their leave, scurrying off to wherever they were needed next. Christine glanced around miserably. In her costume, she could do nothing except sit stiffly and wait for someone to come and tell her that the prince was otherwise occupied and it was safe for her to come out.

The idea occurred to her to slip out of her room and see the prince for herself. However, the thought of what might happen if she were caught was enough to keep her still for the moment. It wasn’t long, though, before a combination of curiosity and quiet sitting made her change her mind.

Outside her room the castle was entirely still, since everyone important was meeting the prince and everyone else had made themselves scarce. As she neared the hall where court was held, she began to hear voices, and was confident that no one would notice her amidst the crowds and confusion. Sure enough, it was a simple matter to slip into the hall and find an unoccupied corner from which she could observe without being seen.

For the first few minutes, it seemed that the trouble of finding a hiding place hadn’t been worth the effort. There was no sign of any prince at all, and the conversation she could overhear was just as boring as what she could listen to the maids talking about at any time she pleased.

At last, just as she was beginning to feel quite sleepy, a herald sounded the arrival of visiting royalty – the prince. Christine craned eagerly for a glimpse of him, but wasn’t tall enough to see over the heads of the crowd without revealing herself. With unusual patience, she resolved to wait until the prince made his way to her.

It took a long time for him to reach her side of the room. It seemed everyone wanted to talk to him, and that he wanted to talk to everyone else. Christine was growing restless and fearful of being found by the time she finally caught a glimpse of him.

She was rather disappointed. He was handsome, true, but much older than her. He looked very proper, like the king or the other boring, important men. He did not, she thought, seem at all interesting, or like someone she would ever want to marry.

But then he turned to talk to someone behind him, and Christine saw a younger man she did not recognize. He strongly resembled the prince, however, and she realized that he must be the younger brother, Raoul. She had heard of him, but whenever anyone mentioned him it was in passing, overshadowed as he was by the crown prince.

He was the very image of the prince she had been imagining: young, handsome, and kind-looking. Even better, he looked as bored with the proceedings as she felt, though he remained polite with those around him. Christine didn’t think she would ever have such patience.

No one talked to him for long, as they were far more interested in his older brother. Eventually, Raoul was left alone, glancing around the crowded room in disinterest. Apparently finding nothing that demanded his attention, he slipped out of the throng gathered around his brother and headed towards the edge of the room – and towards Christine. Panicked, she looked for an escape, but there was no way to leave without him noticing her. She emerged slowly from her hiding place, hoping to alert him without scaring him out of his skin by jumping suddenly from the shadows. To her relief, he looked mildly surprised rather than shocked by her appearance.

“Hello,” he said, smiling at her. Seeing him up close, she realized that he couldn’t be much older than her. She didn’t know how he could stand court if he felt anything like her.

She smiled back shyly. “Hello.”

“I’m Raoul, Vicomte de Chagny,” he said encouragingly.

“I know.” She remembered her manners, curtsying low. “I’m Christine Daae.”

“You have a very pretty name, Christine.”

Christine blushed in reply. “Thank you.”

“How are you enjoying court?”

“I’m not actually supposed to be here,” she answered, blushing even deeper.

He laughed. “Couldn’t stay away?”

“I just wanted to see the prince,” she admitted. 

“Understandable,” he said. “Since everyone else does, too. He is rather impressive, I suppose.”

“Everyone says that he’s going to marry someone from our kingdom. I wanted to see if it could be me,” she explained.

“You? Philippe is twice your age!” Raoul sounded amused.

“I didn’t know that at the time,” Christine protested. “Now I know why everyone wanted me out of the way.”

“Why’s that?” Raoul asked sympathetically.

“I’d say something wrong, and then he wouldn’t marry anyone.”

“I don’t think you would.” Raoul took her hand. “Come on, let’s get out of here. We won’t be missed for hours, and this way no one will know you were ever here in the first place.

Christine followed him eagerly out of the hall. She _had_ gotten to talk to the prince, after all.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few more of Christine's wishes come true

Once they had left the hall, Christine took the lead.

“Come on, I’ll show you the gardens,” she told him, pulling him along the corridors. If anyone had seen them, they would have been shocked to see Christine treating a prince in such a way, but that mattered little to either of them. Christine had never been one for royal manners, and Raoul didn’t care a bit. He was more interested in whatever Christine had to show him than the stuffy affairs of his older brother.

The two children burst into the silent, sunlit garden, which was of course deserted.

“My mother used to grow flowers,” Christine told him. “She died a long time ago, but the garden is still here.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Raoul said gently. He had not been totally unaffected by court etiquette. “It is beautiful.”

“It’s the best place to play. I come out here whenever I can – the maids hardly know where to look in all this.”

As two children who have been cooped up in a boring room for hours are wont to do, Christine and Raoul began playing a game of their own invention, which had no rules per se but was a mixture of tag, hide-and-seek, and imagined adventure, and which was all done quietly and without stepping in the mud, just in case any of the maids happened to be close by.

This had been going on for some time when Christine, believing Raoul to be somewhere behind her, came flying around the corner of a large rosebush and ran smack into him, grabbing at his jacket to keep from falling and ruining her dress.

Raoul seemed to have been expecting this turn of events and shyly but very determinedly kissed Christine on the mouth. Christine, still holding on to him, stared at him with wondrous amazement and made not a sound. To her, this seemed to be the very thing fairy tales are written about.

“We should probably go back before they miss us,” Raoul said at last, faintly embarrassed but not at all regretful.

“Yes,” Christine agreed, but could not quite find it in her to head back inside. “I do wish you could stay longer.”

“So do I.”

Without either of them having decided to move away first, they began to walk back to the hall. They made it inside without incident, and Christine slipped away to her room, unnoticed, while Raoul went to rejoin his brother. She wondered if she would ever see him again.

 

“Christine, come quick,” one of the maids said as she flew into the room. “The prince is asking for you. He has heard about your singing voice and wants to hear it for himself.”

Christine glanced up in shock, wondering how the prince could possibly know about her, or her voice, for that matter. Even Raoul didn’t know about _that_.

“I’m coming,” she said as soon as she regained her senses.

The maid hurried her along corridors to the dining hall where her father was entertaining the prince and his entourage. In comparison to the prince’s, Christine was sure the hall must be small, but to her it had always seemed enormous. This did not help with her anxiety once she realized she would be singing in front of all its inhabitants. And Raoul would be there.

Sure enough, the hall was filled, and her eyes flickered to Raoul, who smiled at her encouragingly.

“Ah, and here is my daughter, Christine,” she heard her father say. She dropped into a curtsey in the approximate direction of the prince, keeping her eyes on the ground. “Christine has the finest singing voice in the kingdom, if I might be so bold,” her father continued.

Prince Philippe was looking at her, not unkindly. “Is that so?” he asked. “Would you do us the honor, miss?”

“Certainly, my lord,” Christine replied, her manners remembered at last. “What do you wish to hear?”

“Anything you care to sing, miss. Your father is not known to boast about nothing.”

“In this case, at least,” her father joked.

Once she began to sing, Christine forgot her nervousness and began to enjoy performing. She could tell that her guests were impressed by her voice, especially – at least she hoped – Raoul.

“Good Lord, Daaé! You told me that she was the best singer in the kingdom, not the greatest singer in the world! She certainly charmed my brother, look how pale he is.” It was true that Raoul looked rather dazzled, or so Christine thought. She curtsied again as thanks, blushing with happiness.

 

Despite her success, after her performance she was sent back to her rooms for her own supper, not being important enough to dine with her father’s guests. She was disappointed by this, but at least had the hope that maybe she had impressed the prince enough to be invited to his castle someday. Then, perhaps, she would see Raoul again. For now, she was left alone to hope.

It came as a surprise, then, when a knock came at her door, and it was an even greater surprise when it was none other than Raoul on the other side.

“I wanted to say goodbye,” he explained, “and also to congratulate you.” With a shy smile, he offered her a flower from the very rosebush they had kissed by that afternoon. “I hope that we meet again soon.”

“And I,” Christine replied, accepting the gift. “Thank you, Raoul. Very much.”

He smiled, kissing her again before turning to leave and looking over his shoulder as he went down the corridor. Christine thought she would never stand waiting for him to return.


End file.
